Revenge is Spelled 'Polyjuice'
by LynstHolin
Summary: When the Golden Trio embarrass him in front of the whole school, Draco Malfoy vows revenge. But Draco is forgetting that Hermione is far cleverer than he is. No pairings.


This was written for a contest on dA.

Warnings: very mild suggestiveness

...

Draco Malfoy was sitting on a hallway floor just outside a closet full of unwanted cleaning supplies. Bored half to death, he wiggled his feet to watch the reflections of the lights overhead move around on the surface of his perfectly polished boots. "Hurry up, you two!"

Crabbe and Goyle were crammed into the closet, moldy string-mops and bristle-less brooms nudging their ears. Goyle was holding a device that looked like a small porthole against one wall. It showed a tiled, steam-filled room. The two over-sized boys snickered. "Just a little longer, Malfoy," peaded Goyle.

"Yeah, things are getting good. You can see _everything_," Crabbe said.

"I'm not seeing anything because I'm not a perverted peeping Tom." Draco leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He began to doze off.

Harry stepped into a niche and pulled out the Marauder's Map. Ron and Hermione stepped in front of him to block the view of any passersby. Fred and George had practiced stunning spells on Neville, and the poor boy was wandering around dazed and drooling. Ron wanted to find Neville before he hurt himself, and, more importantly, before any professor could find out who'd put him in such a state. The twins had been in a lot of trouble lately, and it was making their mother very cranky.

Harry frowned. "He's on the move again. We need to go... here. Huh, that's odd."

"What is?"

"Crabbe and Goyle are in a closet with Malfoy as look-out. What do you suppose they're doing?"

"Having a snog?" Ron laughed at his own joke. Hermione mimed gagging. "Let me see." Ron took the map and squinted at it. His face turned red. "There's a girls' bath right next to the closet. I'll bet they're peeping, and Ginny is in there right now!" Ron tossed the map at Harry and ran down the hallway.

Crabbe and Goyle were too busy ogling to hear three sets of feet pelting down the corridor toward them. Malfoy was a slow waker, so he was still blinking in confusion when Ron reached the closet and yanked Goyle out by his robes. The porthole flew from the ape-like boy's hands and hit the floor at Hermione's feet. "Sickos!" Ron roared as he pounced on Goyle and started punching him. Malfoy scrambled away on all fours. Crabbe tried to get out of the closet to help his friend, but he tripped over a wooden bucket and got tangled up in a pile of dirty rags.

"What is going on here?" McGonagall demanded as she stormed toward the fracas.

Hermione waved the porthole. "Crabbe and Goyle were spying on the girls' bath!"

The professor took the porthole and held it against the wall opposite the closet. It revealed a view of the lake. "A Voy-Port. Unbelievable. You two boys are in a lot of trouble. You too, Malfoy."

Draco, who had been straightening his robes, gaped in outrage. "But I wasn't even looking!"

"Crabbe and Goyle do nothing without you. All three of you will be punished, and letters will be sent to your parents. Come along, boys, we are going to see Dumbledore."

...

As he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, a quartet of Beauxbatons girls swerved away from Draco like he had Spattergroit. He growled to himself. Bloody Weasley had blabbed about the Voy-Port all over school, and now every girl thought that Draco was a sex maniac. Even Pansy, who had gone into hysterics and started beating him about the head with a copy of _Young Witch Monthly_ when she'd heard.

Draco sat down just in time for mail delivery. Goyle had a note from his father. He gave it to Draco to read. In block letters it said: _Greg you are a chip off the old block we dont need to tell your mum right?_ Crabbe got nothing; his parents frankly just didn't care what he did.

When Draco saw the red envelope fluttering toard him, his heart sank. His first howler. Every student in the hall watched him avidly. He snatched it out of the air and stood up, meaning to leave the Hall for privacy. The howler burst in his hand, and his mother's voice boomed at a painful volume. "DRACO MALFOY, I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO DISAPPOINTED WITH YOU IN MY LIFE. I DID NOT RAISE YOU TO BEHAVE IN SUCH A LOW, DISGRACEFUL MANNER. I WILL NOT BE SENDING YOU ANY SWEETS FOR A MONTH. FURTHERMORE, I'VE RETURNED ALL THE GIFTS I BOUGHT FOR YOU FOR CHRISTMAS EXCEPT FOR SOCKS AND PANTS. MOTHER LOVES YOU VERY MUCH, DWAKEY, BUT YOU MAKE MOTHER VERY SAD WHEN YOU ARE A BAD BOY." The red envelope went up in flames.

Draco turned a very vivid shade of pink as a tidal wave of laughter flattened him. "Dwakey, does your mummy buy you Y-fronts with teddy bears on them?" Fred Weasley shouted.

"No, I'll bet they're knickers with little hearts on them!" George hollered.

Even Crabbe and Goyle were snickering. it was going to take a lot of work on Draco's part to keep his position as the king of the Slytherins after this. His eyes narrowed as he glared over at Potter, Granger, and Ron Weasley. They were all wiping away tears of laughter, quite pleased at the part they'd played in his humiliation. He slammed his fork into the table top, embedding the tines all the way in. They would pay. Oh, would they ever pay.

...

Cho Chang, Padma Patil and Marietta Edgecombe were getting dressed in a small, mirrored room. A powder room, actually, left over from the days when powdering one's hair white was still the fashion. Cho reached into her robes and yanked at her bra straps. "I don't know how girls can stand to wear these contraptions every day. There's _metal _in this one. But Old McGonagall can tell if a girl's going without at fifty paces."

Padma was still in her white cotton underwear, admiring herself in the mirrors as she did a litle dance. She chortled and hooted in a most unladylike manner.

"Goyle, get dressed! Potter's probably going to be early. And try to act more like a girl."

Marietta grimaced and clutched her lower stomach.

"What's wrong with you, Crabbe?"

"I feel funny and my tummy hurts. And it's not fair that you two get to be pretty. Look at me, I'm minging. My robes make me look fat." Marietta burst into tears.

"See, Goyle, Crabbe has got the whole being a girl thing down."

Having a female body was a strange experience. Cho was more bosomy than Draco had thought, and he was found the extra flesh rather uncomfortable. Wearing a skirt instead of trousers left him feeling oddly vulnerable. On the other hand, he liked how pretty his legs looked. He was admiring his silky knees when he heard footsteps in the hall.

As Draco expected, Harry came early, looking both eager and nervous. Crabbe and Goyle broke into their versions of girlish giggles; Harry looked slightly alarmed. "What-what did you want, Cho?" Harry asked with naked hope.

"Oh, Harry, I made such a mistake." Draco managed to squeeze out a couple of tears, which clung glistening to his thick, black lashes. "I want to go to the Yule Ball with you, but I suppose it's too late now."

"No, no it's not."

"Do you mean it?"

"Of course I do. I have't asked anyone else. You're the only one I wanted to go with."

"Oh, Harry, you've made me so happy!" When Harry lunged in for a kiss, Draco reared back abruptly. Harry looked hurt. "Let's not kiss yet, Harry. Let's do it at the Yule Ball. It'll be ever so much more romantic, don't you think? And let's not tell anyone we're going together; it'll be a surprise."

"Oh! Yeah, sure."

"We've got to go now. See you later, darling."

Harry watched the three leave, a look of dazed happiness on his face.

...

The night of the Yule Ball, Draco and his Slytherin gang were hanging out by the entrance to the Great Hall, watching Harry Potter as he shifted from foot to foot and fussed at his dress robes. Cho Chang appeared-on the arm of Cedric Diggory. "What are you doing with _him_?" Harry demanded.

Cho gave Harry a puzzled look. "Going to the Yule Ball like everyone else. What's wrong with you?"

"You said you were going with me!"

"_What_? I said no such thing!"

Half of the school was now watching. "Yes, you did! In the powder room with Padma Patil and Marietta Edgecombe!"

"Harry, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. Perhaps you need to see Madame Pomfrey. Come on, Cedric." Diggory glared as he and Cho made a wide berth around Harry.

THe Slytherins burst into laughter. "Losing your mind, are you, Potter?" Draco called out as Harry turned five shades of red.

...

Ron looked up from the Quidditch magazine he was looking at. "What's wrong with you?" he asked Hermione.

She flopped herself down the bench beside him, her face teary. "Oh, Ron, I don't know who else to tell about this!" She put her face in her hands and waied.

Ron looked alarmed. "Ummm... couldn't you talk to Ginny? Or some other... girl?"

"Girls will judge me! I'm pregnant, Ron! You're going to be an uncle!"

Ron's mouth hung open. "Uhhhh..."

"And I don't know if the father is Fred or George!"

"Because you can't tell them apart?"

Hermione sobbed louder. "No. I'm so ashamed. I've been with them both."

Ron jumped to his feet and threw his magazine against the wall. "_Unbelievable_." He stomped away, muttering under his breath. Hermione smiled as she watched him go.

...

"What's with _him_?" Hermione asked Harry, gesturing at Ron. The ginger boy was glaring evilly at Hermione and refusing to speak.

Harry shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe he's got a stomachache."

Hermione saw the red envelope at mail time, idly wondering who was for. As the owl carrying it came closer to her, she noticed Ron looking at her smugly. The envelope landed right in front of her plate. Her parents culdn't send Howlers. Who... what...? With a resigned sigh, she opened it.

It was in Molly Weasley's voice. "HERMIONE GRANGER, I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU. I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE THE LAST GIRL TO TURN UP PREGNANT IN SCHOOL. I THOUGHT YOU WERE SMARTER THAN THAT. AND TO NOT EVEN KNOW WHO THE FATHER IS. WELL, IT'S MY GRANDCHILD, AND YOU **WILL** MARRY EITHER FRED OR GEORGE. IT HARDLY MATTERS WHICH ONE. I AM OFF TO TALK TO YOUR PARENTS."

Unlike most Howlers, the aftermath of this one was dead silence. Everyone stared at Hermione as if she'd just been revealed to be an alien. All except for Fred and George. The twins were whispering fiercely to each other.

The silence was broken by the cackling, snickering, and howing of Slytherins. Looking over at their table, Hermione noticed that Malfoy looked especially gleeful. If he laughed any harder, he was going to give himself a hernia. Hermione suddenly remembered an incident last week. Parkinson had pushed her out of the way in front of the potions class door, and Hermione's hair had tangled in the other girl's charm bracelet. Parkinson had yanked the bracelet away, along with Hermone's hair. Was it an accident, or...?

Hermione stood up abruptly enough to upend her plate. "I'm sorry, I lied! I was never with Fred or George!" she declaimed loudly. "I was just too embarassed to say who the father really was!"

The Slytherins went quiet at the unexpected turn of events.

"Draco, it must have been that night we spent together in the Astronomy Tower." She put her hand on her lower stomach. "I'm having the next Malfoy heir, I just know it!"

Malfoy jerked his head around, taking in all the open-mouth stares he was getting. "She's lying! I never, not with her!"

Hermione put her hands over her face and sobbed loudly. "How could you! You said that you loved me!" She ran from the Great Hall just as Dumbledore started calling loudly for order. She paused just outside the door, grinning at the pandemonium she'd caused. She could hear Parkinson wailing.

"Hermy-own-ninny." Victor Krum was there, taking one of her hands and gazing into her eyes, which were teary from hilarity. "If he does not marry you, I will. My family home is perfect for baby."

...

"Would you listen to me? Hermione isn't pregnant by me. She's not pregnant by anyone. It was all a joke, remember?"

"B-but you said, 'I never, not with her.' With who, then, Draco? It certainly wasn't with me!"

Draco was beginning to think that having a girlfriend was far more trouble than it was worth. The occasional snog in a cupboard did not even _begin_ make up for dealing with Pansy's histrionics. Unfortunately, breaking up with her would mean ceding a little bit of his power as top Slytherin. Whoever became the next boyfriend of the top Slytherin girl could become a contender for Draco's position. It was a whole dominance/social status thing. Living among Slytherins was like living in the jungle. Complete with apes, when you considered Crabbe and Goyle.

"Are you even listening, Draco? Do you even care?" Pansy started hitting again, little flabby slaps like being hit with a balloon.

Hermione Granger. _Hermione Granger_. She was beginning to annoy him more than Harry Potter, because she was far more clever than Scar-Head. Potter got by on guts and sheer good luck; Granger had a mind that was several steps ahead of anyone else's. It made her a much more dangerous opponent in the dog-eat-dog social world of school.

There _had_ to be a way to knock her so far down, she could never crawl back up.

...

"Come with me, Miss Granger." McGonagall took Hermione by the shoulder and steered her into the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was waiting. They hustled her onto a cot, and the Matron slowly ran her wand over Hermione's belly. "No, she is not with child."

McGonagall let out her breath. "As I thought, but I wanted to be sure. I haven't had a girl get in the family way on my watch yet, and it would have been most disappointing if it had been _you_ that ruined my perfect record, Miss Granger. Do you think you could tell me what this is all about?"

Hermione frowned. "I don't know exactly, but I have my suspicions. Is there a way to undo the effects of Polyjuice Potion on another person? You see, what I think happened, is..."

...

Draco much preferred wearing Granger's body to that of Cho's. Her slenderness felt more natural to him than Cho's curvier build, and bras with metal in them weren't necessary. The hair, on the other hand... if he was Granger, he'd just shave his head.

Today was a complicated day. Draco was supposed to be in herbology right now. Goyle was now there masquerading as Draco. In exchange for the detention Goyle would be getting for supposedly cutting class, Draco was buying him half the stock of Honeyduke's. Draco tried not to think too much about Goyle wearing his body; he hoped there wouldn't be any underwear dances.

Hermione was sleeping peacefully on a couch in a small parlor that Draco had discovered behind a tapestry. She looked so harmless when she was unconscious. But if he was at all inclined to feel guilty about what he was going to do, he just remembered the conference with Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Pomfrey, and his parents. The Matron assured them all that there was no way that Granger was pregnant, but his father had insisted that Snape use Legilimency on Draco, just to be sure his son was not sullying himself by cavorting with a mudblood.

"I assure you, Lucius, the only person Draco has cavorted with is himself," Snape had said.

In front of his mother. Snape had said that _in front of his mother_. _And it was all Granger's fault_.

Draco had a small flask hidden in the Gryffindor robes he was wearing. Every so often, he'd dip a finger in it and then stick it in his mouth. It meant the unbelievably foul taste of Polyjuice was never out off his tongue, but it ensured that he wouldn't change back any earlier than he wanted to.

Professor McGonagall passed out long pieces of parchment. It was a test on all the Transfiguration spells they'd learned so far this year. The first question was, 'Diagram the wand movements and write down the incantation for the spell that Transfigures a mouse into a lion.' This one was completely theoretical, as lions were not allowed in classrooms, but Draco knew the answer. He knew them all, actually. He was clever. Just not as clever as Granger, which absolutely galled him.

He noticed Ron Weasley looking at him... funny. That was when he realized he was sitting spraddle-legged like a boy. _Oops_. He slammed his knees together, thinking that he should have noticed that things were getting a little drafty downstairs. The ginger probably had just gotten the thrill of his life.

Question two: 'Diagram the wand movements and write down the incantation for the spell to turn a walnut shell into a coracle.' Oh, that was easy. Draco scratched away with his quill.

Question three: 'Diagram the wand movements and write down the incantation for the spell to turn catfood into trollbait.' Why would one want trollbait, anyway? Another easy one.

Question four: 'Diagram the wand movements and write down the incantation for the spell to turn fingernail parings into knives.' Now, that one was tricky (and a touch disgusting). I was conceivable that Granger might not know the answer. Draco sneakily, but not _too_ sneakily pulled a scrap of paper out of his bra, pretending to study it before he wrote down the answer. He looked up. McGonagall was frowning at him, but said nothing. He went on work on question five, which was on how to turn hedgehogs into hairbrushes.

He didn't notice McGonagall doing a very subtle movement with her wand. A counterclockwise winding motion. Or, perhaps, an unwinding. Draco's legs suddenly returned to their normal length, shooting out from under the pleated skirt he was wearing. His hair went from bushy to sleek. And everyone in the classroom started laughing. Draco pulled his robes shut, but it was too late. Everyone had seen almost all of his fuzzy legs sticking out of a skirt. He got up to run out, but the Professor used her wand to press him back into his seat. "Mr. Malfoy, you will stay until the end of class."

It was a very, very long wait, especially with Weasley glaring at him and mouthing threats. When the period ended, McGonagall handed him a pile of rolled parchments to carry, so he couldn't hold his robes shut. The Professor then marched him briskly through the hallways, taking the long way to Dumbledore's office. Whistles and catcalls followed him. Oh, Merlin, _someone had a camera_.

Hermione was peering out sleepily from behind a tapestry. The sight of Malfoy's knees made her very giggly. Hermione Granger. _Hermione Granger_. He would get her for this, he swore, ignoring the voice of wisdom in the back of his head that said that he really, _really_ should give up.


End file.
